“Of all men in England your grace should be the last to say so,” rejoined Wolsey; “for if I had not been cardinal, you would not have had a head upon your shoulders to utter the taunt.”
“No more of this!” cried the king. “You have misdemeaned yourself in our court by keeping up as great state in our absence as if we had been there in person, and presumptuously have dared to join and imprint your badge, the cardinal's hat, under our arms, graven on our coins struck at York. And lastly, whenever in open Parliament allusion hath been made to heresies and erroneous sects, you have failed to correct and notice them, to the danger of the whole body of good and Christian people of this our realm.”
“This last charge ought to win me favour in the eyes of one who professes the Opinions of Luther,” said Wolsey to Anne. “But I deny it, as I do all the rest.”
“I will listen to no defence, Wolsey,” replied the king. “I will make you a terrible example to others how they offend us and our laws hereafter.”
“Do not condemn me unheard!” cried the cardinal, prostrating himself.
“I have heard too much, and I will hear no more!” cried the king fiercely. “I dismiss you from my presence for ever. If you are innocent, as you aver, justice will be done you.. If you are guilty, as I believe you to be, look not for leniency from me, for I will show you none.” And, seating himself, he turned to Anne, and said, in a low tone, “Are you content, sweetheart?”
“I am,” she replied. “I shall not now break my vow. False cardinal,” she added aloud, “your reign is at an end.”
“Your own may not be much longer, madam,” rejoined Wolsey bitterly. “The shadow of the axe,” he added, pointing to the reflection of a partisan on the floor, “is at your feet. Ere long it may rise to the head.”
And, accompanied by Campeggio, he slowly quitted the presence-chamber.
THUS ENDS THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE [ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]